flower-cluster, clod, branch, anything and everything, great and
small--and jotting down in indelible memory fluid, upon whatever she
kept for a brain, just precisely the position of every landmark. And
as she rose her circles ever widened, so that at last her big compound
eyes took in quite a big stretch of sunlit picture, to be photographed
upon her memory, and there remain forevermore.

It took her some time, for it was some job; but once done, it was done
for good.

Next, alighting with great hustle--now that the work was once
begun--the queen ran into her tunnel, and made sure that nobody had
"jumped her claim" in the interval. She found an ant, red and
ravenous, taking too professional an interest in the place, and she
abolished that ant with one nip; though, as you may be sure, the tiny
insect fought like a bulldog.

Then she executed a shallow excavation upon the site of the future city
itself, carrying each pellet of earth outside beyond the entrance.
This also took time, though she worked at fever-pitch, almost with
fury; but she managed to finish it, and fly away into the landscape in
a remarkably short while, considering.

Here once again she appeared to be searching for something through the
yellow sunshine and the falling blossom-petals--confetti from Spring's
wedding. And presently she found it, or seemed to--an old gate, off
its hinges. But the wood was rotting, and she was no fool. She knew
her job--the job she had never done before, by the way--and after
humming around it in a fretful, undecided sort of fashion for some
while, she flew on. Apparently she was looking for wood, but not _any_